


Inside His Mind

by maybegracie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and everyone else just watches, harry has a shit load of problems, louis falls to quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybegracie/pseuds/maybegracie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was plagued with various psychological disorders, including depression, anxiety disorder, severe OCD, and schizophrenia. Louis was messy, loud, insane, and everything Harry couldn’t stand. This is the unlikely story of Harry and Louis, and their unorthodox love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is my first chaptered fic, don't laugh at me.

Louis Tomlinson threw the word love around a lot. He loved his best friend, Niall, he had loved all the guys that he had dated, he loved his family, he loved the kid he had babysat when he was 15, he had loved the goldfish he had only had for a month and eight days.

Some people chastised him for this, but he didn’t care. He had loved them all, even the goldfish. And the sad truth was, Louis didn’t even really know what love was. He had heard of it, and had assumed that he had lived it, but in truth, they were all endearment, or infatuation. The person he was meant to love was still waiting. And they were about to meet, coincidentally, in a coffee shop in New York, on October 15th. It didn’t sound like a very important place, or date, but it was. It was the most important place and date in either of their lives.

-  
Louis shivered against the chilly air, opening the door to the little cafe with his shoulder.

It was a quaint place, with overstuffed sofas in the corner, and a smattering of mix-matched tables and chairs. In the corner was a stool and a mic. Louis didn’t know what they were for, but assumed someone used them to perform.

“Can I help you?” a voice said. Louis realised he had reached the counter. He smiled at the owner of the voice, a boy his age with light brown hair and giant brown eyes.

“Large hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, and one of those cookies,” Louis said, gesturing vaguely to the selection of cookies.

“Name?”

“Louis.”

The boy nodded, writing his name on the cup in a messy scrawl, and turning to the machinery to make his drink. Louis went and sat down in one of the chairs, a green loveseat, its cushions sagging with age. He pulled out his phone and texted a quick message to Niall, telling him not to wait up, that he was busy.

All of a sudden, a deep voice tore Louis out of his reverie. His head snapped up to see a boy his age with thick curls and a lanky build adjusting the guitar in his lap and muttering to himself, seemingly not noticing that the mic was on, and his only audience was Louis, the boy at the counter, and a small group of giggling girls sitting at a booth, sipping on milkshakes. (Louis thought that this was ridiculous, as it was October in New York, for Christ’s sake.)

When the boy saw that all of them were staring at him, he blinked, saying: “I’m going to sing a song. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to.”

But Louis wanted to. The boy was good looking, sure, but it was more than that. It was the giant sweater covering his torso, the sneakers that were tied into clean little knots — each bow exactly the same size — and the way that one of his hands were shaking, as if he was nervous.

The boy shook his head three times patted his left knee four times, and then repeating the procedure. This did not go unnoticed to Louis.

The boy began to strum his battered guitar, humming. Then he opened his mouth, and started to sing a song. Louis didn’t know the sang that the boy sang, but he knew he liked it. It was soulful, and sad. Louis never realized it, but he cried during the song.

When the boy finished, the girls were still giggling, and the boy at the counter was reading a book, but Louis was watching the boy.

The boy itched his nose, shook his head twice, and got up, brushing off his pants. Then he left.

Louis watched him turned the corner, staring at the ground, guitar slung over his shoulder.

He walked up to throw his cup away and turned to the boy at the counter. He read his name tag. Liam.

“Who was the boy who was singing?” Louis asked, startling Liam.

“No one knows. He comes in every Saturday, exactly two p.m., and sings the same song. Then he leaves. I’ve never seen him anywhere else.”

Louis nodded and smiled at the boy. The boy didn’t smile back, instead, turning back to his book.

Louis left that day, still wondering about the boy. He never told anyone about him. Instead, he forgot about him and the coffee shop altogether.

-

“Louis, you’ve gotta try out this coffee joint that I’ve been stopping at recently. It’s to die for,” Niall said dramatically, gesturing wildly with his hands. Louis nodded.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Downtown. You wanna come with me tomorrow?” Niall asked as they reached Louis’ apartment. They had just gone out to lunch, as many best friends do, and just like every time they went to lunch, Niall had planned their entire schedule until their next lunch the following Friday. But Louis didn’t mind. It was nice for something to be stationary. The rest of his life was hectic.

“Sure. I’ll come pick you up at 1:45, okay?” Louis said, itching behind his ear.

Niall nodded. Louis thought briefly if it was possible to nod yourself to death. If it was, Niall was the next victim.

“Bye, Niall.”

“Bye, Louis.”

Louis unlocked his apartment, stepping over a mound of shirts and into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was an okay looking guy, with wispy hair that always fell perfectly messily, much to Louis’ delight. His eyes were blue, which he didn’t like. Blue was boring, average. Louis tried as hard as he could not to be average. His chin was dotted with stubble, but he didn't mind. Character. Stubble added character.

Louis stopped looking at his face and instead looked at his bed, then collapsed on it, falling into a deep sleep.

-

Harry Styles checked his watch. He had exactly twenty minutes until he began his ten minute trek to the coffee shop, where he would arrive right on time. He looked at himself in the mirror, touching a curl that fell in his line of vision. He pulled on it harshly, wincing slightly at the sting, but instantly feeling better. Sometimes the things Harry did hurt, but they were necessary. He clicked his tounge four times and proceeded to jump from one white tile to another in order to get to his sink. Unfortunately, this made him one tile off from the center of the sink, but if he scratched his knee twice and counted to 20, he should be fine.

Once the feat was over, he glanced in the mirror, running a brush through his hair, then adjusting it so it was perfect. He wasn’t vain, he was careful. Then Harry picked up a bar of soup and began to scrub roughly at his face, so that all the old skin had come off to reveal new, shiny skin. He nodded, accepting his appearance, and went to the front door of his apartment, pulling on his sneakers and tying them, then retying them over and over until they were perfect. Then he grabbed his guitar and started walking.

There were 18 steps until the door, then 52 steps until he was outside. Harry then walked on the crack in the sidewalk until he reached the cafe. When he reached it, he pushed open the door with his left hand, tapping the door frame three times and mumbling Mississippi to himself only once; if he did it more it would ruin it.

He made it to the chair and sat down, looking around to see who was there. Usually it was only him and Liam, give or take a few others, but today there were two boys talking to Liam.

One of the boys had blonde hair. Harry squinted until the brown roots dissapeared and then he sighed to himself. Better. The blonde boy had been here four times before. Four was good. A good number. He always waved enthusiastically to Harry. Harry never replied. Waving wasn’t good, it hurt his head.

Then there was the other boy. Harry remembered the other boy. He had come once. A month and seven days ago. He had sat in the green chair and watched him. Harry had liked it. He had felt the pressure of his gaze and it had made him forget to poke his own nose before leaving, a fact which still haunted him whenever he poked his nose.

The boy had messy hair. A nice messy. Usually messy made Harry shiver in disgust, but the boy had merely distracted him. The boy also had nice eyes, ones that wrinkled when he laughed or thought. Harry liked that, too.

Harry was distracted, something he never was, and didn’t notice when the boy started staring at him, too.

-

Louis had immediately realized that it was the same coffee shop from before, and pointed this out to Niall. At first he hadn’t noticed the boy walk in. But then he heard the familiar muttering, he quickly turned around to see the curly haired boy staring at him, his big eyes green and wondering. Louis had to admit, the boy was beautiful.

“He still comes,” Louis murmured.

“What was that?” Niall asked, turning to Louis.

“Nothing.”

Niall followed Louis’ eyes to see the boy in the corner, now patting a beat on his guitar and poking his cheek.

“Oh yeah, that kid,” Niall said, nodding. “You know him?”

“He was here before.”

“Like I told you last time,” Liam interupted, a bit more cheery having seen Niall. “He comes at the exact same time and does the exact same thing every Saturday. It’s a bit unnerving, to be honest.”

“I think its interesting,” Louis replied, ripping his eyes away from the boy to rest on the hot chocolate being handed to him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Just like the time before, the boy sang the song, then got up, itched his nose, shook his head twice, brushed off his pants and left, eyes trained on the pavement.

Louis glanced over at the unoccupied stool and saw something flutter off of it. He picked it up.

It was a letter, with no return address. Printed on the front in perfect handwriting was:

Harold Styles  
Room 222B 582 Murray Street  
New York City, New York

Louis now had a name for the beautiful face. Harold.


	2. Chapter 2

“You should go see him. He was good looking,” Niall says, stuffing another fry in his mouth. Louis didn’t know how he could talk like that.

“I don’t know, I mean, do you think it will be awkward. He might think I’m a freak for going to his house,” Louis replied, poking his burger with his fork. “Christ, Niall, what am I thinking? His house. Do you know how disturbing that would be. The random kid that you’ve seen twice knows where you live? I doubt he’ll even remember me.”

“Come on, Louis. He won’t forget. And if he does, who cares, your not trying to marry the guy, your returning something that he lost,” Niall replied.

“Why don’t you deliver it?” Louis pressed.

Niall shrugged. “Why can’t you?”

Louis sighed and sat back in his seat. “Maybe I can leave in in his mailbox, or with the doorman.”

“Sure, if you wanna be an idiot,” Niall sighed, putting down his burger. “Look, Lou. I know you’re nervous around guys you like. And don’t try to tell me you don’t like him because I saw you staring at his on Saturday. I’m not an idiot.”

“Just ‘cause he’s pretty doesn’t mean I like him,” Louis muttered.

“Yeah it does,” Niall replied.

And that was that.

-

Louis stood at Harry’s door, shifting from one foot to the other, his nerves getting the better of him. What would he say? How would he react? Louis reached up and shook his head of his doubts before knocking three times.

A voice on the other side muttered something resembling an ‘I’ll be right there’. Louis stifled a small smile and rocked back on his heels. He heard two large bangs and a voice muttering ‘bananas’ under their breath, much to Louis’ confusion.

Then the door opened, and there stood Harold, in only jeans and a t-shirt.

This may seem normal to anyone else, but Louis had only ever seen Harry in layers of over sized sweaters, and he was surprised by how thin Harold actually was.

“Hello,” Louis said.

“Hello,” Harold replied, his hand twitching. His voice was much deeper than he remembered, and his eyes even more piercing.

“I found this,” Louis said holding up the letter.

Harold squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip - hard, before reaching out and snatching the letter, kissing it three times fast.

Louis’ brows furrowed. He has assumed it was just a letter, not something so important that it had to be kissed. Maybe it was from a girlfriend… or boyfriend.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Harold nodded his head and sucked in his cheeks, putting the letter in his pocket. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated, his hands pulled into tight fists, fighting the urge to tap Louis’ right ear.

“Are you alright?” Louis asked, fidgeting with the seam of his jeans. Harold’s eyes flew to his hand and squinted, trying to blur out the hang nail on Louis’ finger.

“Harold?” Louis asked.

“Harry,” he barked, giving in and stomping his foot before shaking his hair out. “Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry.”

“O.K.” Louis said, startled by Harry’s seemingly fury. “I didn’t know…”

“I know. I am sorry,” Harry replied, he said this slowly, as if sounding out the words in his brain first. 

“I’m Louis,” Louis replied, sticking out a hand. Harry stared at it, but doesn’t move to shake it. Louis lowers his hand.

“Louis,” Harry repeated. He quietly muttered it again under his breath

“I found your letter on your chair on Saturday. I was there, you know. Listening to you sing,” Louis said, trailing off at Harry’s silence.

“I know,” he finally replied. “I know you were there. Just like you were there before. On another Saturday. You sat in the green chair, you stared at me.”

Louis blushed. “Yeah..” He scratched the back of his head.

“You never came back,” Harry said, a trace of sorrow in his tone.

“Yes I did, I just did the other day, when you left you’re letter,” Louis said, desperate for some reason to make him feel better.

Harry nodded sharply again and turned to go back in his room. Louis caught his arm, and Harry froze. He was so still that it frightened Louis and made him retract his hand. Harry turned to face Louis.

“You wanna go get some lunch, then?” Louis asked. Harry paused, then opened his door and went back inside.

Louis sighed and turned to walk away, when the door swung open, revealing Harry, in a large coat, standing there.

“Yes.”

-

Louis took Harry to a small restaurant a few blocks away. They served good sandwiches, and their root beer floats were amazing.

“Here it is,” Louis announced, stopping to look at the small building. It’s flickering sign read “Sandwiches”, and Harry blinked at for a few minutes before a wide smile spread across his face.

Louis couldn’t help but smile back, it was so cute. His smile sported two deep dimples on either side, and his rosy lips parted to reveal pearly white teeth. Harry blushed and looked down, unable to make the smile go away.

Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and led him into the retaurant. Harry stared at their joined hands and found himself relaxing for the first time in over 10 years. He felt… okay. And for Harry, it was a big deal to be okay.

They got a table towards the back of the restaurant. It was bright in the small room. Harry liked that. He didn’t like when it was so dark you couldn’t see your own food. That made him nervous.

With Louis, for some reason, Harry wasn’t nervous at all. Maybe it was his easy smile, or the way he used his hands when he talked. Maybe it was his trusting eyes. Eyes that never lied to you. Harry liked truthful eyes. He had seen too many lying eyes in his short 19 years of life. He had seen them on every teacher or friend or family member he had ever attempted to talking to, and had gotten clammy, or so nervous that he couldn’t talk. But not Louis. Louis filled every second of silence with a joke, or an easy laugh, or even a fleeting look in Harry’s direction. Those looks made Harry blush.

-

During lunch, Harry ate his whole meal, even the seeds on his bun.

Harry never ate the seeds on his bun.

-

When Harry and Louis got to his door, Louis had expected Harry to slip in quietly, but instead he turned to Louis, his face flushed, and his mouth curved in a small smile.

“Thank you,” Harry said, reaching out to enfold Louis in a warm hug. Harry hadn’t hugged anyone in 10 years. Maybe it was part of it never feeling okay. Maybe they were connected. But Harry would think about that later. Right then, all Harry could think about was Louis, and how Louis smelled like peppermint and sweet things, while still smelling amazingly masculine at the same time. He noticed things while he was up close. He noticed how when Louis smiled, one side of his mouth was slightly higher than the other. He noticed how his eyes had flecks of green in him. He noticed how his hair would fall into his eyes and Louis would blow it away. He noticed all things seemingly normal things, and realized he liked them all.

When he broke away from the hug, Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling. But he didn’t care. He had Louis now, and Louis had him.

-

After Louis dropped Harry off at his apartment, he skipped home to find Niall lying on his couch watching reruns of Spongebob.

“How did it go? Did he laugh in your face? Is that why you are late?” Did you go get drunk?” Niall asked, muting the T.V.

“Not even close,” Louis sighed, sinking down on the couch next to Niall.

“What happened?” Niall asked, propping his chin in his hands. ”Did he kick you out of his house? OH MY GOD? DID YOU HAVE SEX?”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Louis scoffed, blushing. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“We went to lunch,” Louis said dreamily. “He talked. And smiled. He has a beautiful smile.”

Niall grinned. “You’ve got it bad,” he said, swinging his foot.

“Yeah,” Louis muttered back. ”I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

As he opened his mouth to let out the first note, a familiar head poked his way into the shop. Louis stood there, his coat falling off one shoulder in a way that made Harry smile.

“Harry!” Louis called. Harry smiled over at him, blushing.

“Hey Louis,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the way that Louis stepped on a crack in the tiles, instead of placing his left foot on the blue tiles and his right on the white tiles. This was what Harry did.

“How did you know that I would be here?” Harry asked as Louis finally reached him.

“It’s Saturday, and it’s two p.m.. You always sing at this time, Harry, anyone who’s anyone knows that,” Louis shrugged.

“Oh,” Harry muttered, noticing the couple in the corner watching them curiously.

“Can I get you a coffee?” Louis asked, motioning towards where Liam was pretending to read his book, but really checking out a girl who had just come into the shop. Harry remembered her. Her name was Denise. Or Dorothy.

“No,” Harry replied, tuning his old guitar.

“You sure?” Louis asked, sounding concerned. Harry lifted his head to smile at the boy.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Oh. Neither do I. Can’t stand the stuff. It tastes like crap. I always get hot chocolate. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. Hot chocolate. Chocolate wasn’t meant to be hot. It wasn’t meant to be liquid. Harry shook his head. Then he shook it again, muttering Mississippi under his breath four times and tapping the side of his leg to the beat of The Happy Birthday Song.

“No. No, no, no,” he said.

Louis sighed sadly. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ve kept you enough already.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he realized that since he was talking to Louis, three minutes out of his carefully kept schedule had been wiped clean. He swallowed thickly and bit his lip, trying to think of a way to cancel out his terrible mistake. He lifted his hand to his eyebrow and scratched at it roughly, his breath shallow and his palms sweating. He watched Louis hand over his cash to Liam, taking the steaming cup from him and blowing on it. ‘Not the exact change, Louis.” Harry thought to himself, biting his tongue. He clenched his hand into a fist and sighed. He had wasted too much time. He couldn’t sing today. He wouldn’t have enough time. He sat there, watching as Louis sipped his hot chocolate. Louis smiled over at him, and Harry, in the midst of his panic, made himself smile back.

-

When the time came, Harry got up and repeated the procedure he had gone through countless times before. he stood, itched his nose, shook his head twice, and was about to brush off his pants when he heard a quiet voice. He turned toward it.

“Hi.”

It was a girl that Harry had never seen before. He hadn’t even seen her come into the shop that afternoon. She had long blonde curls, and big blue eyes. They weren’t as pretty as Louis’ eyes though. The girl’s eyes lacked the depth and character that Louis’ had. Instead they were wide and innocent, gazing into Harry’s green orbs. He found himself unknowingly reaching up to tug on a curl.

“You’re really good,” the girl said, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

Harry had always known he liked boys. Well, at least as long as he could remember. Watching this girl, he suddenly could remember why. Girls were too frilly, too soft. Too dependent. It was annoying.

“Thanks,” Harry said, blinking. She giggled again. It was a strange noise, giggling. Harry muttered thanks again under his breath, making the girl look at him funny.

“I’ve seen you sing here before-” she started.

“No you haven’t,” Harry interrupted her, crossing his fingers in a painful knot.

“You’re right, I haven’t,” she laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Harry wrinkled his nose at the cloud of perfume that wafted off of her. “But I thought you were cute and-“

“HAZ!” a voice came from behind Harry. He turned to see Louis barreling towards them, a scone in his hand and his mouth stretched in a wide and almost crazed look.

“Oh. Hey Louis,” Harry said, tapping his nose five times and biting his tongue. The girl next to him smiled at Louis, her face lighting up at the equally beautiful man before her, obviously thinking she had struck gold. Two guys pining over at once, and all in a day’s work.

“Are you still up for dinner tonight? Niall’s been telling me to some see you again, you’re all I’ve been talking about,” Louis muttered the last part, blushing.

Harry grinned and ducked his head. “Yeah,” he said, smiling to himself. “You’re on.”

The girl’s brows were knotted, obviously not bright enough to work out that neither Harry nor Louis played for her team.

Louis smiled back, rocking back on his heels. Harry, in a moment of courage, leaned forward to peck Louis on the cheek. Louis beamed at him, obviously pleased with himself, and the girl next to Harry finally worked it out, blushing mumbling something about seeing someone that she knew over there before darting away.

“Someone’s got an admirer,” Louis said, nudging Harry with his shoulder as they shoved the door open and shivered against the cool autumn air.

“She seemed to like the looks of you, too,” Harry mumbled.

Louis heard this, and he blushed, ducking his head and biting his lip endearingly. Harry giggled, and twiddled his thumbs. As they walked home, harry completely forgot to count his steps and thought only of Louis’ hand in his and his bright smile when he kissed him goodbye on the cheek.

-

When Louis picked Harry up for their date that night, Harry dressed up. Instead of his usual baggy sweaters and over-sized jeans, he dug in his closet to find a nice white V-neck and black jeans that didn’t hang off of his lithe frame. He paired it with a powder blue blazer and a pair of tightly tied Converse, and he was ready to go.

Louis grinned when he saw him, his eyes widening at Harry’s lack of layers. He really was lovely.

On the way to the restauraunt, they chatted idly, talking about anything and everything, from teir family to Harry’s four nipples.

When they sat down at the small table, Harry scanning the beverages and Louis watching Harry over the top of his menu, the conversation turned more serious.

It started simply and sweetly with Louis whispering something.

“You look amazing, tonight.”

Harry scoffed. I’m anything but amazing. You’re the amazing one, Louis.”

Louis sighed as Harry turned over his fork eight times in a row and rolled his tongue.

“Why do you do those things?” Louis asked suddenly. He clamped a hand over his mouth when Harry’s hand snapped up to look at him nervously.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to answer. Really, it’s none of my business.”

Harry sighed and laid down his fork. It’s fine. You would have found out anyhow.”

Harry counted to thirty seven twice, and Louis’ brows twisted as he listened, mildly concerned for the younger boy.

“I. I’m not right in the head,” Harry muttered. Louis craned his head to hear him better.

“What?”

“I have mental problems,” Harry said, a little louder. Louis leaned back, surprised. He had expected something like… well, he didn’t know what he had expected. But he surely hadn’t expected Harry to be so blunt about it.

“Since my parents dies when I was fourteen, I’ve suffered through life with depression, anxiety disorder, severe obsessive compulsive disorder and schizophrenia,” Harry said, looking down at his lap, or really anywhere but Louis’ eyes. He wouldn’t have been able to take the disappointment he always saw when he confessed his problems to people. “My sister raised me, but the tragedy of losing my only parents always plagued me, I suppose. I’ve always been this way, for as long as I can remember.” He paused. “Please don’t hate me.”

Louis scoffed. “I could never hate you Harry. I don’t think anyone could hate you. You’re too perfect, too pure. Too beautiful.”

“No one has ever called me that before.”

“What?” Louis asked. “Harry?”

“No.” he laughed. “Beautiful."

Louis let out a dramatic laugh. “I’m surprised. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re gorgeous."

Harry blushed and smiled at Louis.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

-

That night, when Louis walked Harry back to his apartment, Harry turned to face him at the door.

“Hey,” Louis said, smiled.

“Hey,” Harry replied, staring at the floor.

Louis reached out to pull Harry’s gaze up. Harry’s wide eyes latched onto Louis’ before flickering to his lips. Louis smiled, leaning in. Harry’s eyes darted back to Louis’ eyes, his eyelids fluttering as he leaned forward as well.

Just before their lips met, Harry whispered something.

“You look pretty when you smile.”

Then their lips met.


	4. Chapter 4

When Louis woke up, he wasn’t in his bed. He sat up, confused, but felt relief course through him when he noticed Harry - a fully clothed Harry - lying beside him, tucking into a little ball. He could vaguely remember falling asleep to Harry singing along to some princess movie, they all blended together after a while.

Harry was muttering something in his sleep, making Louis smile as he got up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced back at Harry to see him with his arms around a pillow, nuzzling his head in it and humming contently. Louis grinned. He was adorable. But now was not the time to admire. It was the time to investigate.

He walked to the first room he saw, the kitchen. It looked like it had never been used. Every dish was spotless, and the counter looked as if it had been scrubbed clean only minutes before. As Louis looked around, he realized that Harry’s room had too been spotless, all signs of life wiped clean except for a neat stack of notebooks by Harry’s bedside and a cup full of perfectly sharpened pencils beside them.

The rest of the rooms in the small apartment reflected the other two, spotless, nothing looking properly lived in, the only personal items being a smattering of frames on Harry’s wall. Louis walked closer to see them. They were arranged in neat rows, starting with pictures of a baby who, judging by the curls and big eyes, was Harry, and ending with a recent photo of Harry hugging an older girl with long curls and Harry’s eyes.

“That’s my sister.”

Louis jumped, turning to see Harry standing there, unblinking, watching as Louis looked at the pictures.

“I didn’t even hear you come in, you are so quiet,” Louis exclaimed as Harry shuffled over, eyes trained on the ground as he placed one foot directly in front of the other.

“Gemma. Her name is Gemma. And that’s my mom,” Harry pointed to another woman, looking barely old enough to have a five year old, let alone two teenagers.

“Oh,” Louis said, nodding.

They stood in silence before Harry faced Louis with a determined look on his face.

“You kissed me last night,” he said, tapping his thigh a few times to calm himself down. If Louis noticed, he didn’t comment.

“Yes, I did. And you kissed back,” Louis grinned as he said this. Harry blushed, but didn’t look away, instead staring Louis dead in the eye.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he said, preparing for Louis to burst out laughing, or worse, say that he knew.

“Alright,” Louis said, slipping past Harry and grabbing his coat off of the sofa.

“Are you leaving?” Harry asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. Louis nodded, making his way towards the door. “Why?”

“I have work,” he said, turning the knob and swinging the door open.

“You have work?”

“I have work.”

“Where do you work?” Harry asked, following Louis out the door, even though his curls were matted and flat on one side from sleeping. He fingered at the hem of his sleeve.

“A bar,” Louis said, nearing the elevator.

“Oh,” Harry said, trailing behind him and stepping into the elevator with him. He noticed that he didn’t have shoes on, but didn’t really mind. He felt better when he could feel the ground. He liked how it felt.

They stood in silence while the elevator made it’s descent. When the doors opened, Louis made his way out, shrugging his jacket on.

“Can I kiss you goodbye?” Harry called after him. Louis stopped and turned around.

“No.”

“Why?”

Louis took a step towards Harry, stopping right before they could touch. Harry didn’t flinch, instead stared into his eyes.

“Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

-

Liam was behind the counter when he heard the ring of the little bell above the door. He looked up to see Harry coming through the door. He frowned.

“Is it Saturday?” he asked. Harry shook his head, his curls bouncing. He took three large steps until he was at the counter.

“Do you have milk?”

Five minutes later, Harry was wiping a milk mustache off of his upper lip, sitting across from Liam, who was staring at him, waiting for an explanation for Harry’s sudden appearance at the coffee shop.

“Why are you here Harry?” Liam finally said, sighing and leaning back in his seat.

“I need someone,” Harry said, pushing his finger around the rim of his cup.

“Sorry Harry, I don’t swing that way.”

Harry grinned. “A friend, Liam. I don’t like you like that.”

“Why not,” Liam said, brows furrowing. “Am I not attractive? Am I ugly to gay guys?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve got my eyes set on someone else…”

“That Louis kid, right?” Liam asked, smiling slightly when Harry blushed and ducked his head.

“Yeah, that Louis kid,” he replied, counting to five in his head and scratching his jeans.

That was how Harry made his first friend.

-

“A buddy of mine is hosting a karaoke night at a bar downtown,” Liam said. He was sitting with Niall, Louis and Harry around one of the tables at the coffee shop. Like all days, it was near deserted, save for a few teenage girls giggling and trying to catch their attention.

“So?” Niall asked, oblivious.

“SO, I thought that maybe Harry would want to sing something,” Liam said, turning to Harry to gauge his reaction. Harry looked up innocently, a scone in his mouth.

“What do you think?” Louis asked nervously, his arm tightening around Harry’s shoulder comfortingly.

Harry swallowed twice before tugging on a curl and replying: “I guess,” without meeting any of their eyes.

Niall let out a loud shout, making Harry jump and shrink into Louis, and the girls in the corner to laugh like it was the funniest thing that they’d ever heard. Again, Niall was oblivious.

Louis smiled proudly at Harry.

“Baby steps,” he whispered, kissing his hair. “Baby steps.”

-

Three days had passed, and it was the night of the karaoke. Harry knew it wasn’t a big deal, but that didn’t stop him from cleaning his guitar twice and scrubbing his skin in the shower until it was raw.

When Louis came to pick him up, he was sitting on his bed, shirtless, piles of clothing strewn around him. Normally Harry would be cleaning, making sure the room was spotless, but at the moment he was too frazzled to notice the mess.

“Come in,” he shouted, his voice hoarse. This made his thoughts go racing, terrified that he might loose his voice, or even stop breathing.

Louis opened the door slowly, startled when he saw Harry’s state.

“You okay, Haz?” he asked, shifting through the clothes to get to his boyfriend.

“No,” Harry said, not looking at him. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“Where what you always wear,” Louis shrugged, picking up a random sweater and tossing it at Harry. Harry looked down at it before tossing it back on the floor. Louis frowned.

“I can’t wear that.”

“Why not,” Louis asked, sitting on the bed next to Harry.

“Its one thing t-to wear that in an abandoned coffee shop with just you and Liam, another thing all t-t-together to wear that at a crowded bar.” He said these last two words with a mixture of awe and horror evident in his voice.

“You’ll be fine, Harry,” Louis slung and arm around his shoulders. Harry allowed himself to relax against him. “I’ll be with you.”

-

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the bar, Harry finally having shrugged on a blue sweater and a t shirt.

Liam waved frantically, a grinning Niall at his side. It was clear that Niall had already had enough to drink.

“HARRY! LOUIS! I AM SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU,” he slurred, clinging to a nervous looking Liam.

“Calm down, Niall, it’s just us,” Louis said, detaching his friend from Liam, who shot him a thankful glance before turning his attention to Harry.

“It’s almost your turn,” he said. Harry visibly gulped, wringing his hands together.

“What are you gonna thing?” Niall asked, before grinning goofily and trying again. “I mean… what are you gonna thing. Why can’t I say thing?”

Louis shrugged as Niall chugged another glass of beer, grinning all the way.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry shrugged. Liam’s eyes went wide.

“You’re going to wing it?” he asked incredulously. Harry nodded.

They sat in silence until a voice called Harry’s name. His breaths became ragged, and Louis lay a hand on his shoulder, calming him down.

“I’ll be right here,” he said. Harry nodded and started making his way to the stage, patting his thigh as he went.

He pulled his guitar from the back room with all the instruments and slung it over his shoulder, sitting on the small stool on the stage.

“H-H-Hello,” he murmured into the mic. A chorus of greetings followed. “I’m gonna sing a song, if that’s alright.”

He looked down at his hands, willing them to stop shaking, before playing the first notes of a song he didn’t even know he knew the lyrics to.

 _I should ink my skin, with your name._  
And take my passport out again,  
and just replace it.

He looked out to see Niall and Liam grinning. Louis was watching with a fascinated expression. Harry closed his eyes and tried to sing straight to Louis.

_And you will never know, just how beautiful you are to me,  
but maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up._

-

When Harry finished, Louis met him at the end of the stairs with open arms and folded him into a hug, whispering, “I told you that you were the beautiful one.”

-

When they got back to their table, a young man with dark skin and darker hair was sitting in Harry’s spot. This made him tense, but he relaxed as Louis rubbed comforting circles into his back.

Liam was chatting with the boy, having abandoned a very nervous and very drunk Niall alone on the couch opposite them. Harry sat down next to Niall, patting his knee as he sat. Niall smiled at the familiar gesture and brushed off his pants.

“Who is that?” Louis asked, sitting on Niall’s other side.

“Some other singer. I think he’s Liam’s friend Zayn,” Niall replied, his whisper (but not really) drawing Zayn’s attention back to them.

“You must be Harry,” he said, sticking a hand out. Harry stared at it, making no move to reciprocate the gesture. Zayn put his hand down, clearly embarrassed, and wiped his hands on his jeans. Harry noted that this was just like what Niall had done. Good. Same was good. He counted to seventeen under his breath.

“You were really good,” Zayn grinned at Harry, not noticing his unusual behavior.

“He was wasn’t he?” Louis said, reaching over Niall to tap Harry’s shoulder. Harry came out from his thoughts of numbers and names and looked up, startled.

“What?” Harry said. “What. What what.”

He said this louder that his counting, trying to calm himself down at the prospect of not only performing, but speaking to strangers.

Zayn’s head tilted. “You already said that.”

Harry nodded, so vigorously that a fleeting rush of terror crossed Louis. When he realized that Harry’s head was still connected to his body, he relaxed, picking at a hang nail.

Liam whispered something in Zayn’s ear and he nodded. Harry eyed Zayn from under his curls.

“I’m not crazy,” he said, his voice raspy from singing.

“I know,” Zayn shrugged, leaning back and crossing his arms. This made Harry smile. Which made Louis smile. Which in turn made and uncomfortable Niall run a hand through his hair, making Harry’s nose twitch.

Zayn smiled at Niall, who blushed.

“What’s your name?” Zayn asked.

“N-Niall,” Niall replied. Harry tapped his knee. Niall twitched. “Niall Horan.”

“Zayn Malik.”

But when Harry looked up, he noticed that it wasn’t Zayn who had announced his name, but a female. More specifically, the female running the booth where you registered to sing.

“That’ll be me,” Zayn said, getting up and wiping off his hands. “I’ll be back.”

Niall sat back, looking half way relieved and half way upset. Harry patted his hair, making Niall shrink away to fix it. Harry giggled.

“Hey, my name’s Zayn,” Zayn said, sliding on the stool. “Most of you know me because I made you come,” the crowd chuckled. “But some of you are new, so I’d like to welcome you and just… thanks guys.”

Then he turned to the boy on the piano and nodded. The boy started playing a familiar tune. Hallelujah. The song, that is.

 _I’ve heard there was a secret chord_  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don’t really care for music, do you?

Zayn patted the beat out on his lap, much to Harry’s approval.

When he glanced over at Louis, he was swaying, tears running down his face. Harry’s brow furrowed. Why was he crying? Crying was bad. But Louis looked pretty when he cried.

Harry sat and watched his cry as he listened to Zayn, but when Louis stood and rushed out of the room, Harry didn’t hesitate to follow him out.

-

“Louis!” Harry yelled after him as Louis ran down the street. Louis stopped and turned, seeing the boy ignoring cracks and patterns and flat out running to him. Louis wiped off his tears and faked a smile. Harry didn’t need to know everything.

“You were crying,” Harry said, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Louis.

“No I wasn’t,” Louis said, fiddling with a tear in his jeans. Harry didn’t think, grabbing his hand.

“I’m crazy, not stupid,” he muttered, bending to look Louis in the eyes.

“It’s not important,” he said.

“Hey,” Harry said, taking the nurturing instincts in stride and wiping an escaping tear off of Louis’ cheek. “If it makes you cry like this, it’s important. Tell me.”

“It’s just…” Louis paused. “When… when I was younger… my older.. my older sister, she killed herself.”

Harry blinked.

“That song was played at her funeral,” Louis concluded, not meeting Harry’s eyes, not wanting to be weak, not wanting to make Harry sad.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said. He hesitated for a moment before pulling Louis in for a tight hug, letting him sob against Harry’s chest, tears soaking his sweater.

“Shh,” Harry muttered, stroking Louis’ hair. It was odd, taking care of someone. His whole life he had been babied, people always assuming he was helpless. It was nice to hold, instead of be held.

When Louis pulled away a few moments later, his eyes were red and his nose was running a little, but Harry didn’t care. He leaned in and let their lips meet.

It wasn’t as soft as last time, but neither cared.

They were in public, on a street corner, but neither cared.

They were covered in tears and stank of the smoke from the club, but neither cared.

They were kissing, touching, holding.

And that was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

They had been dating for exactly one month and thirteen days when Louis decided to surprise Harry. Well, he had surprised him before, but this was The Surprise Of A Lifetime. And it had to be perfect.

The idea came to Louis when he and Harry were having one of their many conversations, lounging on Louis’ couch, wrapped up in a blanket and sipping on tea.

“Harry,” Louis began, after a few beats of comfortable silence. “Have you ever seen a live lion?”

An innocent question, but a vital one none the less.

Harry craned his neck to look at Louis before shaking his head.

“Never?”

“Not even once.”

Louis knew that this would never do. No boyfriend of his would go through life without seeing his favourite animal.

The Questions continued over the course of a week, Louis discreetly slipping in a “Have you ever held a koala?” or daftly musing during a viewing of 50 First Dates “Have you ever actually seen a penguin?”

Both times, and the other numerous, seemingly harmless questions, Harry merely shook his head at him, not saying a word.

And so Louis did what Louis did best. He plotted.

He knew that he couldn’t merely take Harry on an outing to the zoo. Far too crowded and loud. It bugged Louis as well, to be honest, but Harry would panic in that situation.

He had heard of zoos closing for birthday parties, or those Make A Wish things, but he didn’t know how it would work.

So he called them.

And, through an hour of shameless flirting and pleading, and, if he was honest, some blackmail, Louis scored two hours in the zoo on a Sunday, with one guest.

Harry.

-

When the Sunday in question arrived, he was decked out in full zoo-going apparel, his favourite blue jeans and a loose striped shirt.

When he showed up at Harry’s door unannounced, Harry was wearing his sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Louis?” he asked, his face clouding with confusion.

“Put some clothes on Haz, we’re going out.”

Harry, still visibly concerned, nodded, slipping back into his apartment, reemerging a few minutes later in a maroon sweater, faded jeans and a large overcoat. Louis grabbed his hand, and Harry smiles down at their finger, knotted together.

“Well,” Louis said, bringing Harry back from his thoughts. “Ready to go on an adventure?”

At this Harry grinned. “Always.”

-

Louis, always the dramatic one, had Harry blind-fllded as they neared the zoo. Harry was giggling and waving his arms about.

“Is this what it feels like to be blind?” he asked to no one in particular.

Louis answered anyways. “I suppose so. But I wouldn’t really know. Never been blind.”

“Are we almost there?” Harry whined a few minutes later, obviously tired of walking the long trek to the zoo.

“Patience is a virtue, Harold,” Louis said, grinning to himself.

“Shut up you idiot,” was Harry’s only reply.

Louis laughed, gently hitting Harry on the side of the head.

“Ow,” Harry yelled, getting a few strange looks from their fellow pedestrians. But hey, they were already getting looks. I mean, as far as Louis knew, it wasn’t a regular occurrence to see a young man guiding another young man, who was blind-folded, through the streets of New York City.

Finally, Louis pulled Harry to a stop in front of him, hands resting on his thin shoulders.

“We’re here,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry reached up and eagerly pulled the blind-fold off of his eyes, inhaling sharply when he saw where Louis had led him. Louis waited nervously, anxious to see Harry’s reaction.

Harry turned to him, eyes glassy.

“Oh shit,” Louis said, eyes widening in worry. “It’s awful, isn’t it? You have some dark story in you past where you almost drowned in a polar bear exhibit, don’t you? I’m sorry. This was stupid, let’s just go home and forget about this and-“

“Louis.”

“I mean-“

“LOUIS!”

Louis jumped at Harry’s voice.

“It’s perfect,” Harry said, smiling through his tears and leaning forward to give Louis a big kiss on the cheek.

“Then why are you crying?”

“They’re happy tears, you dumb ass,” Harry said, laughing as he wiped a tear that had escaped down his cheek.

At this, Louis grinned and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on Harry’s mouth.

“Get a room,” a voice called. They turned to see two old men smiling at them. They grinned back, holding hands and making their way through the gates of the massive zoo and walking up to the front desk.

“Tomlinson,” Louis said, leaning against the small counter and peering through the glass at the short girl with giant red curls.

“Oh! You’re the guy who bought out the whole zoo for the day for your boyfriend!” she said enthusiastically. Beside him, Harry blushed, sending a chiding look towards Louis, who merely smiled.

“That would be me,” he grinned at the girl.

“I’m Jade. I wish my boyfriend would do that for me,” she laughed. Louis sighed. “Boys.”

Jade laughed and waved them through the gates. Louis grinned and Harry smiled politely at the sweet girl, holding onto the back of Louis’ coat, gnawing on his lip, trying to fight a silly grin off of his face.

“You bought out the entire zoo?” he whispered, still fighting the grin. Louis simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen a real lion.”

Harry sighed, rocking back on his heels and finally letting the grin take over his face, fiddling with Louis’ fingers.

“You’re way too good of a boyfriend, you making me look bad,” Harry said finally.

“As if anyone could make you look bad.”

“True,” Harry muttered. Louis elbowed him in the gut, and Harry bent over, clutching his side and grinning at his boyfriend’s silly antics.

Louis led him to the first exhibit, and then the next, and it went on for quite some times until they were sitting on the cold ground in the aquarium part of the zoo, the reflection in the water dancing off of each other’s features, did things turn serious.

“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” Harry said suddenly. Louis’ head snapped towards him, brows furrowed.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Crazy.”

Louis sighed and turned towards Harry, who was studying his shoe lace, twirling it in between his fingers. “Haz…”

“It’s alright,” he said, his head lifting, meeting Louis’ eyes with a watery smile. “I know I am. You don’t need to try to soften the blow.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry playing with his laces and Louis staring at nothing.

“They used to- They used to say I was like the perfect child,” Harry finally said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. “I was cute. Spitting image of my older sister. Full of energy, never a negative thought crossed my mind.” He sniffed and rubbed at his forehead. “Then I turned fourteen, and my parents died, and everything changed. I stopped eating, I stopped going to school. I mean, no kid wants to loose a parent, but both? At once? And at fourteen? I mean, I knew them, but I had so much more that I need them for. I-I needed my mom to hold me when he didn’t ask me to prom. I needed my dad to toss the ball with me in the backyard. He had always wanted that. To play sports with me. But I always put it off… and then he was just… gone.”

Louis reached forward, but his hand stopped short of patting Harry comfortingly on the shoulder. He had a feeling that Harry didn’t want to be comforted.

“I was going to tell them about me being gay, you know. I knew then. I had a whole speech planned out and everything. God, I was so terrified that my dad would like… slap me, or disown me or something. Harry laughed, wiping his nose. “Sometimes I still think about it though. My sister was fine, but what if they weren’t? What if I was sent out on the streets, or they just stopped talking to me. I mean, what if I would have gone through that? Should I be happy that they are gone?”

“That’s ridiculous, Harry,” Louis said, giving in and laying a hand on his shoulder. He jumped before noticing it was only Louis and settling back down. “Of course you should be sad. And I don’t think they would kick you out of the house. From what I’ve heard, they were pretty spectacular.”

Harry nodded, tears dripping out of his eyes and onto the concrete floor beneath them.

“Let’s go,” Louis said a few minutes later, standing up and extending a hand to Harry. Harry stared at it before putting his own chilled palm in Louis’ and letting him drag him to his feet.

“For the record,” Harry said, staring at their intertwined hands. “This was an amazing date.”

“Even with the soul searching?”

“Even with the soul searching.”

-

It was a Tuesday, one of the few days when Louis was busy and couldn’t hang out with harry when Gemma showed up. Harry was just sitting on the couch, minding his own business and watching reruns of Supernatural when there was a knock on the door.

He stood, patting the pillow back into it’s original form and made his way to the door. He was slightly confused, Louis was busy until three and he didn’t have any plans with Liam or Niall or Zayn that he could remember.

But the person standing at his door was the last person he expected.

-

Five minutes later found the Styles family, or rather, what remained of it, sitting across from each other at the table, both too nervous to speak, but too embarrassed to let the silence continue.

“You never call anymore,” Gemma ventured, wringing her hands together.

“No,” Harry said. “I didn’t know you wanted me to. After where we left things last time, I assumed you didn’t want me to talk to you at all anymore.”

“I would never want that,” Gemma retorted, reaching across the table to take Harry’s hand. He flinched away from her touch, and Gemma brought her hand back, biting her lip.

“What are you doing here?” Harry exhaled, leaning forward in his seat, set on edge by his sister’s sudden arrival.

“Can’t I just come see my baby brother without having my motives questioned?” she asked, laughing incredulously.

“No,” Harry said. “No, you can’t.”

All of a suddedn, there was the unmistakable sound of a door opening, and Louis’ voice called out. “Haz? I’m back early! Where are you?”

Gemma shot a curious glance at her brother, who, with wide eyes, called back that they were in the kitchen.

“What do you mean, we?” Louis asked, rounding the corner, and stopping suddenly when he noticed the other person sitting across from his boyfriend.

“Who are you?” he asked, taking a step towards Harry.

“I’m his sister, Gemma. I’m sure he’s told you lots about me.”

“Yes, but he said that you were out of the picture now. Gone, MIA. Not coming back anytime soon, thank God.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry muttered to Louis, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“Sometimes plans change,” Gemma grinned at Louis, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “And now I’m back. And I need some help.


	6. Chapter 6

“So let me get this straight,” Louis said, rubbing his temples. Harry sat beside him, unmoving, in a daze. “You’ve come to take Harry away from his home?”

“Yes, as his legal guardian, he is only seventeen, after all, I have the right to take him away. You can fight me in court, of course, but I think we all agree who would win. I have a job, a stable income, a big house, and Harry is a mentally challenged teenager who can’t take care of himself.”

A small gasp escaped the boy beside him, and Louis looked over to see Harry staring at the floor, his fists clenched. He mumbled something.

“What Harry?” Gemma said, leaning forward.

“I said, I’m not mentally challenged. And anyways, you said you needed help! This isn’t you needing help, this is you kidnapping me!”

“Harry,” Gemma said, sighing and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’re being melodramatic. Once you come home, you’ll realize how silly you’re being. I mean, come on, you’re kidding yourself. Playing house. A future in music, a doting boyfriend. You knew it would all end, didn’t you?”

Harry was silent, his eyebrows knotting, before whispering, “You said you needed help.”

“We all stretch the truth sometimes. I needed you to listen to me and reason. Obviously, this proved harder that I imagined,” Gemma muttered, rolling her eyes at Louis, who was seething.

“You bitch,” Louis said, leaning across the table. Gemma laughed.

“Please,” she said, holding up a hand. “Spare me. I’ve heard it all. I just want what’s best for my brother.”

“Yeah, right. You just don’t want him to be happy, and for some twisted reason, you can’t let him go,” Louis got to his feet, and loomed over Gemma. “You are a sick, conniving bitch, and you’re not taking him away from me. I won’t let you.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Louis,” she grinned. “I have every right to take him away. And I will, and you can’t stop me.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis narrowed his eyes, sticking his nose in her face. “Watch me.”

“Louis?” Harry said loudly, standing up from his seat. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Louis followed Harry into the hall and shut the small divider, peeking out at Gemma, who was examining her nails and chewing loudly at her bubblegum.

“Maybe I should just go with her,” Harry mumbled, tapping his leg.

“Are you-” Louis stopped when Harry flinched away from him. “Are you insane?”

“I don’t know Louis,” Harry said, running a hand over his face. “Sometimes I think I am.”

“I won’t let you go with her, Harry. I love you. You have to stay with me. Please. We can, we can work this out. We can call someone, get a restraining order! You’ll be eighteen soon, and then you can make your on decisions. Please, Harry. Just don’t go with that… that conniving bitch.”

“Louis, I l-love you, but I won’t fight my family. I’ll go with her, only for a little while, and then I’ll, I’ll be right back, I promise. Just please, don’t try to argue. I know my sister, I grew up with her. She won’t back down, and if she falls, she’ll take you with her. So please, just, leave it. I’ll go,” Harry said. Louis sniffed, shaking his head.

“You can’t. You can’t leave me here alone. I need you, Hazza,” Louis reached for Harry’s shaking hand.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, grabbing his hand and scratching his nose twice before pushing back through the door.

“When are we leaving?” he asked.

Gemma smiled, and in the hallway, Louis sunk to the floor, his face soaked with silent tears.

-

Two days later found Harry standing in his tiny apartment, packing all his clothing to go back home with his sister. There was a knock at the door, and Harry looked over his shoulder, gnawing at his lip before taking four steps forward to open the door, where Louis was standing, hands shoving in his pockets.

“Hey, Haz,” he said. Harry sighed.

“You can’t just show up like this, Louis, I can’t,” Harry took a deep breath and counted to eight. “I can’t handle it.”

“I’ve come to take you home,” Louis grinned, pushing past Harry and sitting on his bed.

Harry breathed deeply twice, and tapped his leg sporadically.

“You can’t do that,” Harry sighed, shoving a shirt into his suitcase and sighing.

“Why not? I love you, Har-“

“WELL I DON’T!” Harry screamed. Louis blinked, his heart racing.

“W-What?” Harry sighed and clenched his fist.

“I don’t love you, Louis. And you don’t love me. You loved the idea of loving me. And I was perfectly happy with playing along, because I had convinced myself that I loved you,” Harry sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Louis stood up and backed away, shaking his head. ”Louis…”

“No!” Louis said, tears slipping past his eyes, and his hands shaking more than Harry’s. ”You’re lying. You love me, but you’re a coward. You’re too scared to admit to yourself that you love me.”

“Lou-“

“NO. You aren’t allowed to call me that. You are leaving me. Do you get that? I’m in love with you and you are abandoning me. You are running away because you are scared of the fact that you found someone. So no. You don’t get to call me that. A-And fine. If you don’t think you want me, fine. I’ll leave. But I love you, and I will always love you. So thank you. Thank you, Harry Styles, for breaking my heart.”

And so the great love of Harry’s life walked away, slamming the door behind him and sinking on the floor outside, tears streaming down his face, and snot coming out of his nose. He didn’t care that people walked by and tutted at him. And on the other side of the door, Harry sunk on his bed, shaking, his head in his hands. He shuddered and bit his fist, quieting his sobs.

Two boys sat and cried, only ten feet apart.

And neither of them had never felt more alone.


	7. Epilouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end! Thank you for all of your comments and such. I am thinking about following this up with one-shots or a sequel or a prequel. Be sure to check out my other fics! Love, Gracie

TWO YEARS LATER

Harry stared up at the dormitory in front of him. College. It seemed like a magical thing, something only normal people did. And yet here Harry was, about to begin his college career as a musical major at New York University. It was surreal.  
Shortly after what Harry had taken to referring to as "the Incident", he had moved with Gemma to her home in Cheshire. Harry had stayed there for a couple of months, never complaining, taking his medication, going to his appointments, being a puppet on a string for his older sister.  
But when Harry turned eighteen, he started thinking about his choices. He couldn't very well leave right away, it wasn't like he had anywhere to go, and Gemma had been right, he wasn't even close to being mentally capable of living alone. But he didn't want to stay with his sister.  
She didn't really love him. She loved the power she had over him. She cared for him under the facade of helping him, only to treat him like a half-wit, or a child.   
And so he had started looking at colleges. Colleges in the UK, colleges in the US, colleges anywhere in between.   
And then he found it. Well, phrasing it like that made it sound like NYU was an obscure little university hidden in a tiny town. It wasn't. It was NYU. But Harry had never really thought about moving back to New York, saying it would be too much for him in his fragile state, but knowing it was for fear of running into Louis, or even Niall around the city.  
Their romance had been a fleeting one, but it had struck a chord with Harry, and he thought that seeing Louis in the arms of a smart, sane man would drive him over the edge.  
But there it was. New York University. He could major in music. He could live in the big city again. He could find a new coffee shop to frequent, and make friends, and find someone willing to humor him with romance.  
Everything was perfect.  
Gemma, as predicted, was furious when Harry told her his plans. He had been accepted, since his intelligence level was abnormally high, due to his attention to details and photographic memory. But Gemma fought him. She took him to court, telling the judge how Harry couldn't take care of himself, and how he would hurt himself or others if given the chance.  
Harry in turn told the jury and judge of what Gemma had done. While she never hurt Harry physically, she tore down the little confidence he had gained from his life in New York. He told them how Gemma carted him around like an invalid, and how she told him lies, yelled insults about his mental conditions at him, and even homophobic slurs when she got angry enough.  
In the end, it wasn't difficult convincing the judge that Harry was capable of taking care of himself, provided he took his medication and continued seeing a therapist once a week.  
So here Harry was. Pushing through the doors of his dorm, pulling his suitcase behind him. The other students smiled at him, and he nodded jerkily back at them, glad that the butterflies in his stomach weren't abnormal.  
He had enough abnormalities in his life as it was.  
Harry stepped inside the elevator, squeezed in with a young woman carting about seven suitcases, and running her fingers through her hair nervously.  
"Hey," she said. "First year?"  
Harry nodded, shyly.  
"Me, too. I'm terrified that my roommate is going to be a freak, or, God, what if she brings home guys every night?" the girl's eyes widened at the mental image, and grimaced. Then she turned to Harry, cheeks flushed with excitement and nerves. "Eleanor Calder."  
Harry grinned, giving her a firm handshake, her clammy hands not going unnoticed. "Harry Styles."  
"You a musical major?" she asked, gesturing to the guitar on Harry's back. He nodded. She smiled. "I'm studying French."  
"Cool," Harry said just as the elevator dinged, and they both climbed out of the small box. Strangely enough, Harry hadn't felt enclosed in the elevator. In fact, he had felt completely content talking to the stranger.   
The two walked a bit before Eleanor pointed down the hall. "I'm this way. It was nice meeting you Harry. I hope I'll see you around!"  
Harry nodded, and waved at her as he continued on, looking for dorm number 678.  
When he came to it, he looked at the tiny gold numbers, staring at them as if challenging them to change. When they didn't Harry pushed open the door.  
He came to a sudden halt when Harry saw a familiar messy head of brown hair, and crinkling blue eyes.  
The boy jumping on the bed looked up, stopping when he saw Harry. He gingerly got off the bed, waving off his blonde friend, who had stood up and reached out to the boy.  
The blue-eyed boy walked up to Harry curiously, his eyes full of mischief.  
"It's funny," he said, his voice delightfully raspy, with a British accent clinging to the American twang so many people had here. "But you look just like a boy I fell in love with once."  
Harry blinked slowly. "He must have been an idiot to let you go."  
A slow smile spread over the other boy's face, and he reached up to cling to Harry's neck.  
"Good to see ya', Harry Styles."  
Harry smiled and breathed in the shorter boy's scent.   
"Likewise, Louis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always appreciated!


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